<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Snowball Effect by RandomObserver</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227221">The Snowball Effect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomObserver/pseuds/RandomObserver'>RandomObserver</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU of an AU, All of LadyIrina's characters belong to her, Found Family, Im just borrowing them bc i love them, Non-explicit but I wanted to cover everything, The warnings are only really in the first few chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:20:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomObserver/pseuds/RandomObserver</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that a mandalorian can and will drop everything to become a parent. That's how foundlings are, well found. And sometimes all that foundling ever wanted was a REAL family, not just someone they’re related to.</p><p>(Really this is just a self-indulgent found family fic with a little angst)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Corin Valentis, Paz Vizla/raga(LadyIrina)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: Recon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snow, there are only a few things in life Corin likes more than snow. One of them is right next to him, shining in silver beskar with the scope of a pulse rifle to his visor. Behind them stands the dynamic duo of Paz and Raga. They all stand on a snowy mountainside, under a brilliant blue sky, with a crisp breeze ruffling the fur on Corin's collar, staring down at a small compound covered in white. It was a former imperial base if he remembers correctly.</p><p>     About a week ago, not long after showing Din how to skate, Zev'sonya and Mose had called them about some trouble brewing on the planet they were currently on. A slaver ring was taking advantage of the annual snows to take over a local fighting club and using the still falling flakes to cover their tracks. The ring had been sloppy enough to pop up on the spice runners' radar after a message came from a small group that had managed to avoid being taken. Zev'sonya was considering using her own resources to take them out until she learned something sickening after looking into who they were dealing with. That they weren’t just slavers selling workers, they were selling to those who had certain... personal tasks for the people they bought. And she COULD not, WOULD not allow that to stand. So, with her decision made to PUNISH these slavers, not just kill them, and the terror inducing reputation of mandalorians, she decided to call in the A-team of rescuing things: Din and Corin with Paz and Raga as backup. While she took up coordinating the mission while babysitting the Child with Mose. And of course Liita was along for the the ride because "every time you do something heroic, you need me to repair the damage! This just saves us all a trip."</p><p>     The plan was simple. Din and Corin would scout out the place since they were already on the planet. Zev'sonya would pick up Paz and Raga on her way to the snowy planet. Everyone involved, especially Zev’sonya, was practically chomping at the bit to fight anyone who could even think of doing something that terrible to anyone.</p><p>     Two days later, after handing their little womp rat over to his favorite babysitters, and here they are, standing on a cliff just on the other side of the mountain from their cabin with a scarily quiet Raga and a twitchy Paz, looking over the slavers' base of operations preparing for what would be happening as soon as the sun fell. Men milled about in large cloaks and almost all of them had a slaver's crest somewhere on their person. There were four ships on the landing strip, all of which looked like prison transports. A pit opened up in Corin's stomach when he thought about the implications; to have enough money for the ships and resources to keep this place going they must've been operating for years, staying just off the radar and taking people one planet after another. So many people they couldn't save. Not this time, this time he would do something good. Maybe he could make up for all the people he'd killed as a trooper.</p><p>     The silence was heavy as they stood there in the blinding snow, Corin tries to break it, "Judging by the size of this place, there shouldn't be any more than twenty of them."</p><p>     Din huffed taking the scope away from his visor to face the group, "but nobody knows how many prisoners they have."</p><p>      "That doesn't matter!" Zev’sonya grit out, over the comms. "No matter how many of them there are, nobody deserves what's going to happen to them if we don't get them out!"</p><p>"And we will," Din insists. "Once the sun goes down, I'll plant some charges on their fuel reserves as a distraction. Once they blow, we'll move in."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In the Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This place used to be an Imperial outpost, long abandoned and empty. Grime and dust cover the walls and distort any light streaming in from the windows, naturally inviting curious souls. But now, things have changed. Rooms that were once empty hold an assortment of scruffy outlaws and their belongings. The barracks once full of troopers and officers, full of a vast array of weapons and the people they belong to. Everyone here had two things in common, they had been cast out and they loved to fight. Instead of a place of war, this base was now an arena of brawls and bets. And all were welcome if they proved themselves.</p><p>One of these ruffians is a wiry young woman with frizzy brown hair pulled into two short braids down the sides of her head. She is cheering with a crowd around a small table, holding a tankard of some mysterious green liquid, and pumping a fist in the air, displaying her hands which are wrapped for a fight. Her clothes are obviously old and show signs of repair with seams and patches all over. A gray sleeveless top clings to her from just under her chin, down to a fraying hem just under her bellybutton. Her baggy pants are kept up with a knotted cord threaded through the belt loops. They might have been green at some point, but have since faded to an almost tan with black patches sewn into the knees. These rugged pants of hers are tucked into a pair of boots that are obviously a former imperial officer's, once polished to shine, but now dull and scuffed. The crowd around her was dressed in a similarly shabby way, and all of them were intoxicated to varying degrees.</p><p>Her story was similar to others' in this community of scum; unloved and unwanted. As the youngest of six children she was already a great strain to her birth parents. She had been a very scrappy child, always brawling with her siblings and the other children of the village. She was always disobeying her parents, but that wasn't the final straw. Then, her "woman's time" never came, even at the age of 14, and the doctor her parents took her to said that she could never have her monthlies or bear children. And her parents decreed that if she couldn't carry on the family line, then she had no place in their home. They kicked her out and told her to start walking and never come back. And, well, what's a girl to do after that? Stay?</p><p>She left the village. With nowhere to go, she wandered around the old Imp trails outside of her village until she found this place. It was an underground fight club of sorts that took in any outcasts. Out of options, cold, and hungry, she ventured inside, terrified. The first room was a sort of bar which was filled to the brim with patrons. As soon as the door opened, all eyes were on her, taking in her tiny and shaking frame. There was some tittering from the crowd. One of the women, came over to her and leaned down. A young woman with buzzed short hair, scars all over, and an odd skull tattoo on her shoulder.</p><p>"Are you lost?" She asked, looking deep into Tilly's eyes, searching for something.</p><p>"No," the little girl replied. Holding the strange woman's gaze with all the determination she could muster.</p><p>The woman smiled, reassuring. And stood up, holing out her hand for Tilly to take. Which she did. The woman turned to the staring crowd, "I'll take care of her."</p><p>The woman called herself Creed, and said she'd take her in and give her a chance to prove herself. She taught her how to actually fight, she shared her bunk, and being only 7 years older, she became like the older sister Tilly never had.</p><p>That was all 5 standard years ago. Now, she stands proud of her life, with her only REAL family, a fierce woman with a love of fighting(and surprise adoption apparently). Every single person here had a story, a name, and a purpose. It wasn't uncommon to have an odd name here; like Creed, who never talked about her past; or like Grog, their bartender; or like Ricket and Ticker, the one who handled the flow of credits and bets. Even after all the time that had passed and the people who had come and gone, she was still the youngest of everyone here, and a bit of a little cousin just about everyone liked, or at least respected. She's become a bit of a local celebrity with her habit of resorting to head butting opponents to unbalance them. Everyone had taken to calling her "Kiss", after the infamous Mandalorian fighting move, the "Keldabe kiss", and she had fully embraced her nickname. Tilly was a sad little girl with nothing; Kiss is a strong young woman with a family, a home, and something to live for.</p><p>It was a typical Sunday night, no matches today just partying away Creed's winnings from the previous week. She was watching Creed arm wrestling with her friend Beruk, cheering with the crowd of the twenty or so active arena fighters gathered, nursing a tankard of whatever brew Grog had whipped up, getting a little tipsy, just like usual when she heard the whine of a ship coming in for a landing. It was probably just the supply run coming back. She turned her attention back to the trembling arms of her friend and sister as Beruk slowly began overpowering Creed and forcing her arm down. The cries of their group grew louder. </p><p>"C'mon Cree!" Kiss taunted. "I've got 50 credits riding on you!"</p><p>Her sister smirked and grunted, "oh we can't have you losing that now!"</p><p>Redoubling her efforts, Creed began to retake the advantage. The cheers reached a fever pitch as slowly, inch by inch, Creed pushed Beruk's hand lower and lower. Until...</p><p>The door to the bar flew open with a bang, startling everyone. They all turned to look, falling into fighting stances. And there stood a dozen cloaked figures, all wearing a strange emblem on their cloaks. There was a beat of silence. The whole bar crowd unanimously and without speaking agreed that they were bad news. Then all hell broke loose.</p><p>Every patron there is a seasoned fighter who knows how to close a gap, but everyone had been drinking. As they all surged forward, every one of the cloaked strangers drew a blaster and started firing. The smell of burnt cloth and flesh overpowered the previous scent of sweat and booze. The first wave of fighters collapsed as the strangers aimed to take out everyone's legs with frightening precision. In a moment of panic, Kiss freezes, the one thing Creed had drilled into her from day one to NEVER do. And the pays for it, one of the bolts his her and everything whites out in pain.<br/> She lands on her back and knocks the wind out of herself. That kriffing HURT and she couldn't move. As she coughed, trying to regain her breath. She didn't remember much of what happened after that. Someone grabbed her arm and hauled her up, twisting it behind her back. </p><p>Through the daze of flying across the room and being manhandled down the hall she heard one of them say, "I knew this place was full of rats, I didn't expect them to fight so hard."</p><p>She whimpered as her only reply was her arm being twisted harder. Then she started writhing as she was herded down into the prison level. But they were already throwing her in the furthest cell from the light, despite her fighting. As they walked away, they started talking again.</p><p>"How much do you think we'll get for her?"</p><p>"I don't know if we're even selling that one, she looks like the boss's type."</p><p>Hearing that, her blood ran cold. No, they couldn't possibly mean that. She wasn't even... NO! Oh no, nonononono<br/>NO!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is just a brain dump and is subject to change at any time. Stay tuned if you’re interested!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>